


miscommunication

by ahumblefrye



Category: Assassin's Creed, Assassin's Creed Syndicate - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff, cute shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 19:39:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6022359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahumblefrye/pseuds/ahumblefrye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Henry done did fucked up boi<br/>evie walks in on something she shouldn't have and it just all goes down hill from there</p>
            </blockquote>





	miscommunication

Evie smiled as she saw the curio shop come into view. Her heart started to beat ever so slightly faster and her strides lengthened. Every noblewoman she passed seem to give her a kind smile and knowing look, for she exuded a certain aura that only came from being in love. She hadn’t spent much time with him recently, in fact he seemed to be rather distant. It may or may not have been starting to concern her, so she decided to get him something special. She clutched a small paper bag in her hand that was weighed down by the savory biscuits inside. They were from a small shop Henry enjoyed and, although they were not to her taste, she gladly went out of her way to get them. Surely he’d be home to enjoy her spur of the moment visit, it was still quite early after all. 

Coming to his door she knocked gently. After receiving no warm welcome into his home she proceeded to rasp her knuckles against the wood a second time and, being unsuccessful yet again, pulled a small silver key from her coat and opened the door herself. She found it rather odd that she should have to let herself in, with it still being morning she doubted he was already opening up shop, but she let the thought pass. Perhaps he had gone out for breakfast this morning. Setting her bag down on his kitchen table she called into the empty house “Henry?”, there was a chance that he had decided to sleep in and she wished not to startle him at this hour. A rustle coming from one of the few rooms caught her attention. It appeared her assumption had been correct ‘I guess I’ll just have to wake sleeping beauty then.’ She thought, a sly smile gracing her lips. Slowly she eased the door open,“Henry,” she cooed “I brough-”. 

Her heart and stomach sank as she stood, wide eyed, nauseated, in the door way. What laid before her was not the handsome dark-skinned curio shop owner but a young lady. A very beautiful young lady, that was curled tightly into his sheets with her hair sprawled out and so soundly asleep Evie doubted an earthquake could wake her. Taking a hesitant step back she released a shaky breath, her mind was racing trying to think of any logical reason as to why Henry would have a young, beautiful, attractive girl in his bed that had quite obviously been there the previous night, evident by the much too small cloths littering the floor. Walking back to the kitchen table she rubbed furiously at her eyes trying to will her tears away however, upon looking at the treat she had so lovingly thought of giving, she couldn’t help but let in a wobbly breath and allowed a few droplets to run down her flushed cheeks. She snatched the bag, paper crinkling in her grasp, and bolted from the cozy flat that smelled so much like him. Tearing through the streets of London she stopped only when her lungs protested at her sharp intakes. She wanted as far from him as she possibly could but the fear of taking on wayward Blighters in her current state forced her to stay in the confines of White Chapel. Leaning against the grimy wall of the closest alley she glared at the pastry bag. “I’ve been a damn fool haven’t I?” She asked, mostly to herself; partly to the heavens. Anger bubbled inside her as she tore open the bag, digging her heel violently into each biscuit and grinding them into the mud. She stomped and kicked and ripped the bag into unrecognizable pieces. A stray dog with his ribs exposed and joints visible watched and waited for her tantrum to end. “At least someone will enjoy them." 

She huphed and stormed back to the train hurt and already feeling exhausted. Slamming the door to her car shut she collapsed on the bed and happened to glance at the flower arrangement that sat on her desk. Eyes welling with fresh tears she wailed and slammed her face into the pillows. Her sobs rang through-out the tiny wagon yet were muffled to the outside world by both the fabric and the rattling of the train. Her tears smeared her makeup around her eyes and down her cheeks and her nose filled, making steadying her breathing that much harder. She looked like a mess; she felt like a mess. Her cries may have calmed into sniffles but her head still swam with questions. What had caused him to do such a thing?: Was it when he was captured and she had told him he’d be better on the train? Was she too brash and harsh? Was she not womanly enough for him? Was it because her self-sufficient and independent nature caused him to feel like less of a man? There wasn’t a doubt in Evie’s mind that she wore elegant dresses, enjoyed teas and biscuits, and was at a man’s beck and call regardless of her occupation. She was probably full of life and inexperienced, believing that there really was good in everybody, and needed to be saved from it all; a fairytale princess. She dried her tears and tried the best she could to fix herself up again; 'Damn eyeliner. Why do I even bother?’ She had absolutely no interest in going back out to face the day, nor Jacob, who would most likely pester her relentlessly about her disheveled appearance, but there was work to be done. As it was she had spent the better part of the day wallowing; it was already early afternoon. If she didn’t do anything then Jacob was bound to know something was wrong, if she tried to act normal, he’d still pick up on it, but hopefully get the message that she didn’t wish to talk. She favored the later option and did her best to calm her nerves and mask herself. 

As luck would have it, Jacob was no where to be found, but Mr. Green certainly was. Balling her fists at her side she stalked over to the assassination board. "Ah Evie I have some documents you might want to look over. They could help in preventing a Templar resurgence. ” he attempted to hand her the yellowed pages while he spoke but she turned away trying to emphasize her disinterest. “Just leave them here. I’ll take a look once I get back.” Henry could sense something was off by the fact that she had yet to look at him, nor did she give him her usual greeting or even a warm hello kiss. “I also have some news from my Urchins. Apparently the Blighters have set up a ne-” she cut him off, her voice cold and thin. “I think I’ll go and talk to Mr. Darwin actually. He mentioned something about the ghost club the other day.” With that she turned to leave and with a slight glance over her shoulder bid him farewell “Good day Mr. Green." 

Henry stood at the desk with a very puzzled look on his features; his eyebrows furrowed and his lips thinned into a slight frown. 'What on earth could have caused such an out lash?’ He thought to himself. It wasn’t their anniversary and it certainly wasn’t her birthday, Jacob would never let anyone miss that, so then what could it have been. 'There isn’t any other special occasion I could have missed. She isn’t one to fret over such things anyways.’ He reasoned. 'Is it…is it that time already? But I could have sworn she just had it not more than a week ago.’ He blanched slightly, the memories of how foul a mood she had been in resurfacing. Evie would often stay with him during those weeks. She claimed that the constant movement of the train made her feel sick. He was lucky he didn’t have a broken wrist from how easily angered she was during her stay. 'Perhaps she is just tired. She has been working awfully hard lately. I should get her something special, it might cheer her up.” and with that he headed into the city to find God knows what.   
When her awful, terrible, miserable day was finally over (thank the lord) Evie returned to the train. Perhaps she would at least try and organize the papers Henry had brought earlier with no actual intention of reading whatever the scumbag had given her. Slipping her coat and belts off, and even her waist coat leaving her in her corset cover, she started by separating and filing them. She had only just begun to feel slightly more at ease when she was pulled back into her sorrow by a knock on her car door. 'All I want is some peace and quite. That’s all, is it really that hard to get around here.’ But despite her nasty thoughts she answer in her best fake sweet voice for who ever it was to come in. He entered. 'Great, the prick himself.’ “What?” She barked at him. “I brought you something.” Henry said with a charming smile and soft eyes. 'I bet that’s the same smile you used to charm her out her skirts isn’t it?’ Evie thought, though she continued to keep her face neutral. He handed her a old looking leather bound book. “It’s full of various ghost stories from different regions. Some are more believable than others. I thought you might like it.” He was sure this would lift her spirits. 

Running her fingers over the weathered cover she scoffed. “You really are a bastard you know that?” She scowled, looking him dead in the eye hoping to rouse the truth from him. No longer was she content with holding in her rage and she was going to be damn sure he knew exactly what he did. “Evie! What in the world has gotten into you?” He was shocked more than anything it wasn’t like his love to spew things of this nature. Sure she would yell when she got upset or say things when they argued but it was never like it was now. Her words were full of pure bitterness, hatred, not her stern care that greatly resembled his mother. It hurt him. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find out you fucking bastard?” Her face was turning red. “What the hell are you talking about?” Henry was starting to get angry. “Don’t play fucking stupid. ” she hurled the thick book, aiming square for his head. He dodged but that didn’t make him any less safe from her. “I know what you’ve been doing you selfish ass prick!” In her blind furry she reached for another book, probably one on assassin history, but Henry caught hold of her wrist. “Don’t fucking touch me.” The book fell to the floor as she tried to wrestle her wrist out of his hand. “Then stop throwing things.” “Why should I? I’m not the one that had a whore in his bed.” “Evie I didn’t- I would never-” her eyes flooded and her struggling faded as they let loose a fresh batch of tears. “I know what I saw. She was there this morning. Why do you keep lying to me?" 

He pulled her close and held her tight as she sobbed into his robes. "Oh Evie. Is that what this was all about?” She tightened her grip, tugging at the fabric that covered his tensed back. She nodded and buried her head further into him as her cries became more intense. The sound of her cries pierced Henry’s heart; she sounded so heartbroken. His own eyes were beginning to glisten when he finally spoke. “She wasn’t a whore. The council asked me to help escort her so she could be transferred to the French brotherhood. She became sick and I looked after her for a few days. I should have told you. I-” He paused taking a deep breath to calm his shaking voice. “I’m sorry.” He brought a hand up to the back of her head and placed a kiss to her hair. She didn’t respond, but she also hadn’t tried to break their embrace or take his head off. Henry took it as a sign that she was, at the very least, contemplating his words, if not thinking of her own response. 

He wouldn’t press her, knowing how fragile she was at the moment so he simply stood there and held her till she was ready. Quietly, in an almost whisper, she responded “I’m sorry too.” He knew what she meant. She was sorry for so wrongly accusing him, for trying to decapitate him, for letting her own fears get the best of her. Shuffling he leaned against the desk and ran his hands down to the back of her thighs, hoisting her around his waist so he could cradle her fully in his arms. She placed her arms around his neck, absent mind-idly toying with his hair. Her breathing evened out and her eyes slipped closed, the emotions of the day having been dissipated into quietness. “I love you” “I love you too.” She slipped from his body but never left him. Cupping her face in his hand, hers rubbing small circles over his, he wiped away the remaining droplets. She opened her eyes and met his own deep ones. “I’ll go make some tea, okay?” He asked. “Okay.” She watched him leave and sighed, sitting down on her bed pushing a covers and pillows around. She laid facing the chair opposite her, waiting patiently for his return, her eyes unwillingly slipping close. Upon his return and seeing her dozing peacefully he picked up the ghost book and took his place in her arm chair. No sense in letting the drink go to waste.


End file.
